


Vacations and Shopping Sprees

by eledhwenlin



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-01
Updated: 2007-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How shopping lists mirror their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vacations and Shopping Sprees

**Author's Note:**

> A big heart-felt thank you to [](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/profile)[**slidellra**](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/) for a kick-ass beta. She made this a lot better and kept me from ditching about a quarter of it. All remaining mistakes are my own. 

_Kibble_

Although Diefenbaker insists that it’s superfluous, that he is quite capable of living on what he catches (donuts, rats, bagels, Ray's leftovers), Fraser keeps buying kibble. After all, Dief is only _half_ wolf, so dog food is perfectly suitable for him.

Each week Fraser looks at the different ads that find their way into his mailbox and compares it to his list of dog food that contains all the necessary vitamins and minerals and those that don’t. To his dismay, the items on the first list rarely make it into the ads. He sent a letter to the supermarket chain, asking why they are advocating food that has been proven to be, if not harmful, at least insufficient for the needs of the animal man calls his best friend? His letter wasn’t well received: he is no longer allowed to shop there.

But Fraser found another shop, a small independent one, run by an old lady with a soft spot for stray cats, that sells the best dog food. Although it is quite expensive, he buys it, every time.

Diefenbaker is his closest friend and Fraser is determined to have him as long as possible.

_Coffee_

Each Saturday Ray buys a jar of instant coffee, Maxwell House. He used to detest the stuff, before, but he’s grown to like it. Before the divorce he used to buy the good coffee, whole beans, a pack each Saturday at the bakery 'round the corner from their apartment. He and Stella had this really great coffee machine with a built-in coffee grinder, but they also had one of those old hand-operated grinders. Using that grinder always meant something - an anniversary, birthday, major holiday - and Ray will never forget the sounds of it. Listening to the machine grinding the coffee meant their everyday life, early mornings, when they both would only grump at each other until they had coffee in their cups and caffeine in their blood.

Listening to the coffee machine meant home. So when he moved out, Ray took their old coffee machine, the one without a grinder and put it onto the counter of his kitchen and hardly ever used it. After Stella, he thought nothing could be good anymore. No use in buying the good coffee, if Stella wasn’t there to enjoy it with him.

He got used to instant made with hot water from the tap. The first few times he drank it, he was tempted to spit it out again. But the bitterness of the coffee equalled the bitterness of his _life_ now and he had to learn to endure it. Take that, stomach. He thought it was the best he deserved right then.

But, in one of the corner cupboards, hidden behind a juicer his mother gave him, there’s the coffee grinder.

_Earl Grey_

It’s the first time Ray buys groceries only for Fraser. Although Fraser never complained that there wasn’t anything but water for him to drink in Ray’s apartment, Ray was married for too long to not get the subtle signs. And he has to admit that Fraser is right. It’s not buddies that Ray never has anything but beer in his fridge. Well, there’s milk, too, but Ray can only guess when he bought it.

So one Saturday he stands in the “Tea & Coffee” aisle, which is normal. He's right in front of the tea section, though, which is not. He stares at the rows of tea packages and is close to despairing. When they eat in a diner, Ray has noticed that Fraser always orders Earl Grey (he _is_ a detective after all). When he made his shopping list, it seemed fairly easy. It’s just tea, right?

But now he stands in front of a shelf that contains 26 different kinds of Earl Grey and Ray knows that you just can’t grab any tea. For Stella, he always had to buy a special brand of chamomile - no other would do. He doesn’t think that Fraser would yell at him for buying the wrong one, but, if he’s honest with himself — and right now he can’t be anything but honest to himself because he’s standing in a supermarket and agonizing about which tea to get for his _unofficial cop partner_ — he wants to do something good for Fraser. And if he’s really honest to himself, he’ll admit that he wants to make Fraser smile and he wants Fraser to smile _at him_. He’s very resolutely not thinking about what that means.

Ray eyes the different packages. You’re a detective, so detect, he tells himself. He remembers Fraser saying that tea is one of those things where a higher price still means a better quality. So he looks up, because in any supermarket the expensive stuff is up where you can reach it easily.

After his search for any Canadian brands fails, he just picks one at random - the box has a somewhat classy design, with all those swirls kinda strange font that screams British empire at Ray, so he thinks that one'll do. It looks pretty enough in its box, but then he realizes that it’s not in tea bags, but loose. Lucky for him, just a yard away, there’s a collection of tea sieves and stuff. Thinking back to Fraser's tea monologue, he chooses a sieve.

That evening Fraser comes over to watch hockey and when Ray puts the cup of tea down in front of him, his eyes light up. Ray sits down and he can't stop smiling for the rest of the evening.

Ray still isn’t thinking about what all that means, though.

_Lube_

Ray stares at the tube lying in the desk drawer. It’s doing nothing, just lying there, but for some reason he can’t look away. Or close the drawer, for that matter. And it’s not even his fault that he found it because Fraser sent him in here to get more of the stinky stuff - which Ray doesn’t want on his head, but Fraser insisted he has to patch up Ray properly and that means putting more goop on his head wound before it gets infected. Apparently there’s no normal antibiotic cream anywhere in the consulate, which sucks.

So Fraser sent him in here, told him that it’s in the drawer of the file cabinet right next to his cot, only there are three drawers. So he chooses one at random and it contains the lube and other stuff that makes it clear that this drawer is something like Fraser’s medicine cabinet, just without any actual medicine.

Ray knows that he should close the drawer and keep looking for the actual medicine-type stuff. He's intruding on Fraser here and he has no right to. But it’s so... so satisfying to know for certain that Fraser the Pure, the saint in red shining armor, has the normal needs of any human man. Because it’s sitting there alongside Fraser’s toothpaste, and Ray’s pretty sure he knows what Fraser’s using it for. Well, he guesses he knows because there’s more than one thing you can do with a tube of lube and now he tries really hard not to think about Fraser with his fingers up in his ass, lying on that cot, moaning loudly because no one can hear him, because the Consulate is pretty much vacant from 6pm to 9am, so Fraser’s got all the time in the world to finish what he started and he can draw it out long. Except now Ray is thinking about Fraser with his fingers in his ass and he _cannot_ stop thinking about it.

In that moment the door to Fraser’s office opens and Fraser’s _there_ , looking confused, asking whether he is all right until he really looks at Ray and he doesn’t finish his sentence. Ray knows that the whole story’s written all over his face because he _never_ could hide this stuff, not back when he came home from the first time with Stella and his mother was still awake and asked him how his date had been, and not now with Fraser right there. His hard-on must be obvious, too, and Ray just doesn’t know what to say.

But they’re both saved by someone knocking on the front door. The someone turns out to be Welsh, coming to them with news about Cahill and cohorts.

_Condoms_

They haven’t talked about it in the two weeks since it happened, but it’s still _there_. Ray feels it every time he gets into the car with Fraser and he knows that Fraser knows it, too. They don’t talk about it, but about everything else, anything to keep them from asking either “Do you think about me while you do it?” and “Do you like me?” because the answers to any of those questions might wreck them. So they don’t talk.

But Ray can’t stop thinking about it. When he closes his eyes, he immediately pictures Fraser lying on his cot, legs tucked up and slightly spread. He notices Fraser’s nervous ticks even more and each rub of the eyebrow, each lip-lick, each gesture translates into _I’d like to be fucked by you_. These days Ray spends most of his time half-hard.

And Fraser ignores the whole situation. He acts like Ray never found the lube, like Ray didn’t embarrass himself and Fraser in the process. It’s driving Ray insane.

So he decides to do something about it. He adds another item to his shopping list and Saturday he spends a whole fifteen minutes staring at various brands of condoms. In the end he just picks some out at random - flavourless, white, _normal_ in all the ways this whole thing isn’t. He almost freaks in the checkout line, but before he can get rid of the condoms, it’s his turn and only a couple of minutes later he’s out of there. The bag with his groceries seems to weigh ten times as much as usual.

But he takes it home, puts the condoms on his nightstand and starts preparing dinner.

_Smarties_

Fraser was brought up to be polite, even more so in a social setting. As such he does not let Ray deter him from bringing a gift each and every time they spend the evening in Ray’s apartment. Ray has elaborately explained that they are partners, friends, and host gifts are for people you don’t know and that it really wasn’t buddies. Fraser nodded thoughtfully and the next time decided to bring something else, something small, something Ray couldn’t reject. His choice fell on chocolate - he has noticed that Ray always takes chocolate in his coffee - the M&M’s section of the snack machine in the break room of the 27th might as well belong to Ray as no one else dares take one of the precious packages. Fraser once asked him why and Ray answered that the sweetness of the chocolate equalled out the bitterness. He didn’t inquire further.

It turned out to be the perfect gift and since then Fraser has made it his habit to bring him Smarties - Canadian M&M’s, he told Ray and Ray answered that they were great, greatness even, with a radiant smile.

Normally he looks forward to this exchange, to this bout of intimacy and friendship that Ray gives so freely. But today his hands are cold, as he clutches the package of chocolate, unsure of how this evening will end. Ever since the... _incident_ , their partnership, their duet, has been subject to a disharmony. It is disconcerting to them both and this evening bears the promise of a respite, a return to their old jovial friendship - but it may also mark a drastic change in their relationship. He’s not sure which one he would prefer.

_Brussels Sprouts_

When Ray opens the door, Fraser has to suppress the urge to run. Ray has donned his usual attire, jeans and a t-shirt, but that might very well be the only thing that is normal. The apartment is clean, for once, and a slight fragrance still betrays the fact that it has been cleaned recently. Overlaying the odd mixture of detergents and other cleaning paraphernalia, though, there’s the delicious smell of beefsteak and mashed potatoes.

Fraser has been expecting pizza ( _but with pineapple this time, Tony_ ) or Chinese take-out, but not such an elaborate (for them) meal. He knows that Ray can cook, but normally prefers take-out. He wonders whether Ray did this for Stella, if he countered their arguments with meals, the more sophisticated, the worse their fight (or the more important the occasion) had been.

He wonders what it means for them now.

When Ray dishes up, Fraser finds brussels sprouts on his plate to his delight. For a moment he forgets that they are not quite all right and looks up at Ray, smiling at him. Ray smiles back and Fraser realises what they must look like – smiling at each other in a way that needs no words. Blushing, he turns to his plate and starts eating. Never before has he acted on his feelings for Ray, his partner, his friend, one of so very few. He mustn’t lose him. Resolutely he decides that his attraction is based on familiarity, a shared intimacy that develops between two people who have to rely on each other blindly. It’s nothing more.

His resolve is put to the test many times throughout the evening. When they are done eating, they do the dishes and Ray’s hand keeps brushing at Fraser’s. Innocent touches, but Fraser’s skin feels on fire.

They settle down on Ray’s couch to watch a hockey game. Ray keeps brushing against him, small, meaningless touches (a hand on his leg as Ray leans forward to put his beer down, a nudge with his shoulder to gain Fraser’s attention, one hand covering his own as Ray takes Fraser’s empty tea cup). Fraser’s skin grows hot where he’s been touched, each touch surging through his body. He feels on fire, so drawn to Ray that he’s afraid he doesn’t know who’s on the ice, let alone who's winning.

When the game is finally over, Fraser sighs a breath of relief. He has made it, has withstood Ray’s energetic attractiveness and is free to go home.

But when he stands up and takes his hat, intent on saying his goodbye as quickly as politely possible, Ray intercepts him. He seems nervous, steering him through the apartment until Fraser is completely flustered as to what beset Ray to act in such an astonishing way.

Then he catches sight of the open bedroom door and the nightstand that is right in his line of sight. There is no way to explain away the lube and package of condoms lying on it, right next to Ray’s pillow where he might reach either item easily.

Fraser’s breath catches and he feels himself blushing. Turning around he finds Ray watching him carefully. He doesn’t know what to do, how to react to this. He stares at Ray and wishes himself away.

_Sheets_

Fraser looks like he’s getting ready to bolt – he has his _Fraser-the-deer confronted with Frannie-the-headlights_ face on, only now it’s Ray being the headlights.

Cautiously he approaches Fraser. Ray's worked with a lot of frightened people;, abused women, robbed store owners, kids hung up in gang politics, and he knows how you have to calm them down, before you make your moves. Fraser looks at him with wary eyes, as if Ray could explode any minute now and Fraser would be caught by the shrapnel.

That wasn’t really the reaction Ray'd been shooting for, but maybe he never thought this through completely. He'd been so caught up in his own emotions, trying not to jump Fraser, to be just his partner and friend that he didn’t really think. But then he’s not sure he even thought anything, when he cooked this up, besides _an eye for an eye_. He’s lucky Fraser didn’t bolt at the first sight. This has blown up in his face and now he has to test his damage control skills, carefully honed and developed during the Stella years.

First thing Ray does is to push the stuff under his pillow. He knows better than to think that out of sight means out of mind, but it’s easier to think if he’s not looking at it directly. He opens his mouth to speak, say _I’m sorry_ , anything, except he can’t. His mind is blown empty, his tongue feels thick and swollen, heavy in his mouth, and his heart is pounding.

If he fucks this up, he fucks _them_ up, for good, Ray thinks he couldn’t survive it. There has to be some cosmic law that says you only have one fatal crash and burn per life. It was hard after Stella, and Ray simply _cannot_ lose Fraser, because this would be worse than Stella. With her it wasn’t going well for a long time, if he’s honest with himself, and the last couple of months were hell, with them always going back and forth, fighting only to make up with incredible sex and making up only to get into another fight five minutes after. But it helped because there was some good in the silence after the divorce, when Ray came home to an empty apartment – it didn’t mean Stella was angry with him or not home yet even though it was past midnight. It was just silence.

But with Fraser he'd lose his best and only friend. They spend most of their time together, whether on the job or their time off. They have lunch and dinner most days. Tony’s already working on a Canadian-style pizza, looking into sources for lichen and blubber. Ray’s mother isn’t surprised anymore when she calls Ray and hears _Ray Vecchio’s apartment, Constable Benton Fraser speaking_. They’re a duet, and Ray knows, _knows_ that after Fraser nothing could be the same anymore.

Every partner would suck because no one can compete with the Mountie superhero with his extraordinary senses, complete with his deaf half-wolf and cape-red armour-serge. No friend would be enough because Fraser has spoilt Ray with his vast knowledge, and Ray'd miss the stories and anecdotes that don’t have anything to do with their actual topic. He'd miss Fraser like a lost limb, more like a lost inner organ, and he doesn’t want that to happen because how pathetic could he become? So he can’t, cannot, must not fuck this up.

Only he can’t come up with anything to say and he realises he’s panicking, but he _cannot_ be panicking, he’s gotta be cool like Steve McQueen, but that makes him panic even more.

Then Fraser touches his hand, interrupting the cycle of panic as Ray looks up into Fraser’s eyes. Fraser is pale and his mouth is a thin white line and his eyes are big and dark and scared. And he’s still holding Ray’s hand, his fingers loosely curled around Ray’s. The gesture feels innocent and intimate at once. It calms Ray down so that he is _really_ looking at Fraser. He sees his own fears mirrored in Fraser’s eyes - _don’t want to lose you, need you_. Breathing deeply, he comes to a decision and tightens his hold on Fraser’s hand, pulling him closer and closer until they’re touching. Then he lets his body do the talking.

The first thing he thinks is that it’s easy. Fraser doesn’t hesitate to touch, once Ray has given him permission by kissing him deeply. His hands are all over Ray, touching, caressing, fondling, until Ray feels on fire. They kiss, deep kisses that make Ray’s toes curl and make him forget his name. Whoever taught Fraser to kiss deserves a medal, he thinks, but then Fraser burrows under this shirt, his hands hot on Ray's skin and, god, he’s never been this turned on by someone’s touching his _belly_.

They get rid of their clothes fast, working in unison. They never stop kissing, not even when their touches turn more needy, when their sounds turn even hungrier and when their love-making turns more frantic. This is something they both want and _need_ , and it's so _easy_. It feels like a natural progression of their relationship, like they have been working up to this right from the start. And perhaps they have.

Afterwards they lie on Ray’s bed, sheets bunched all around them, Ray holding on to Fraser for dear life. But Fraser’s arms are around Ray, so he guesses that it’s okay. That they’re okay. Slowly their breathing calms down and Ray relaxes. He’s still holding on, but his right hand is in Fraser’s hair, caressing his scalp, gently moving through his hair, and Fraser’s hand is drawing circles on Ray’s bed, so they’re really okay. He kisses Fraser, letting his mouth ask him – _stay_. Fraser answers with _yes_.

 

 

_Epilogue - Plane tickets_

Two months after they set out on their adventure Fraser and Ray arrive at Sergeant Frobisher’s outpost again, exhausted, marked by the cold and exertion. The excitement when they saw the vast openness of the Beaufort Sea has since long subsided. They have entered a deadlock. Whatever it is they have been doing these past few months, they haven’t ever talked about it. The adventure was a welcome way to postpone any decisions they had to make, but now their respite is over. They spent the way back from Inuvik carefully not speaking about anything but the most necessary.

Now that the sled team has been returned, that they are settled into a vacant RCMP bungalow meant for the officers posted at the detachment, they have to deal with the unanswered and neglected questions.

Sergeant Frobisher handed them a bundle of letters – Fraser can make out the RCMP insignia on some of them as well as the CPD seal on Ray’s – before he sent them off to the bungalow. Although the building is quite big by Fraser’s standards, he feels strangely claustrophobic, being alone with Ray and all those questions between them. What are they going to do now? Will Ray go home? Will Fraser accompany him? Will they continue this, seeing each other every other couple of odd months, with telephone calls and letters to tide them over until the next time they could see each other or one of them found a nearer, more accessible love? Fraser is scared of the answers and yet he cannot bring himself to ask Ray to stay.

In silence they open their letters. It is only common sense to ascertain what choices one has. In Fraser’s case, it turns out that his choices are indeed _his_ choice – he is offered a promotion and a posting of his own choosing. For a moment he is back in Inuvik, walking the streets in Aklavik, patrolling the tundra with Diefenbaker – but then he looks at Ray and realises that even the Northwest Territories would seem lonely. During their adventure Ray has managed to imprint his self onto the landscape Fraser has known since his childhood – without Ray it’d be incomplete.

Across the table Ray is reading his own mail. He fiddles with the empty envelopes, lips moving silently as he reads. Fraser is mesmerised by him, by his endless energy. Ray has proven himself on their quest, eager to learn and (despite his own statements) adapting very well and fast to the environmental challenges. It has made Fraser hope that maybe Ray will choose to stay here, with him.

But sitting here now, the possibility seems slight, not to say infinitesimal. Ray will go back to Chicago, Fraser is sure, to look for a woman to love him like he deserves and to bear his children and build a family with him. The image is so vivid in his mind that he cannot suppress a small sigh. Ray looks up, concern in his eyes. Fraser shakes his head, smiles, and goes back to reading his mail. He feels Ray’s inquisitive eyes on him for a few moments longer, then Ray, too, opens another letter.

Earlier, when they received the letters, Fraser was surprised to find one from Ray Vecchio, too – surprised, but happy. But as he reads it, he finds he cannot trust himself to read correctly. When he looks up, he finds his own surprise mirrored on Ray’s face. But he finds none of the hurt he thought he’d see there, only honest surprise and the hint of a smile. Ray catches him looking and he smiles at Fraser – a reflexion of Fraser’s own smile, but much more real. Then he grins and starts laughing. Fraser is bewildered by this outburst of mirth, but also relieved – if Ray is not upset by Stella being with Ray Vecchio, then perhaps there’s hope for _them_.

After all letters are read, their packs put away, their laundry washing, it is late and Fraser finds that he is glad that their talk can be pushed to the next day. He does not look forward to it. The bungalow has only one bedroom with one single bed in it. For a moment Fraser wonders whether Frobisher thought anything by that, if he knew. But it is late, Ray may very well leave him tomorrow and if his father’s old partner knows exactly what kind of partner Ray is to him, well, then he knows. He’ll fret about it another day.

The sheets are cold when he lies down, but Ray soon joins him and then there’s heat permeating them. On the adventure there was no place and time for this, only for lazy kisses at the end of the day. This might be his last chance to make love to Ray, now that they’re clean and shaved and in a bed. Fraser intends to use his chance to his best. And he does.

It’s late morning when they wake up, a tangle of limbs and sheets. Fraser does not want to get up, wants to stay here, close to Ray, basking in the warmth of his embrace, but life is cruelly intruding in the form of a phone call. It’s Ray’s mother and, with a sigh, Ray settles down on a chair, apparently ready to stay there for hours – having experienced other calls from Ray’s mother, Fraser knows that this might very well be the case.

So he sees to making breakfast. But he keeps listening to Ray, trying to make sense of a conversation he only hears part of. He knows he shouldn’t, but who knows how long he will have Ray around?

When he hears _Dunno, I’ll see when I’m back in Chicago_ , his heart sinks and for a moment he can’t move. It just seems so unfair that he, always he, is not allowed to be happy. Then he pulls himself together – if Ray wants to leave, then Fraser will have to let him go. On the table there is a notepad where Ray is writing down a kind of impromptu shopping list. As the last item Fraser adds _plane tickets Yellowknife – Chicago_. But when he turns to leave, Ray grabs his arm and stops him. Frowning he glances at the notepad, looks at Fraser and then motions for the pen. Fraser stands frozen next to him as Ray writes. As he sees what Ray has written, he cannot but smile and Ray breaks into a radiant smile of his own.

Fraser changes _plane tickets Yellowknife – Chicago x2 ?_ to _plane tickets Yellowknife - Chicago x2 ~~?~~_. The second he does, he knows that this is the right decision. There is not much holding him here, besides a half-sister he will likely only see very rarely, permafrost, and the tundra, but in Chicago he has friends waiting for him. As Ray takes his hands and says to his mother that, yeah, he’s coming back as soon as he can and _Ben_ ’s coming with him, Fraser knows that he made the right decision.  



End file.
